


Playing Well With Others

by zilia



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Kissing, Light Angst, New Relationship, Pepper Potts has a company to run, Post-Iron Man 2, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 02:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18202418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zilia/pseuds/zilia
Summary: They kissed. So now what?





	Playing Well With Others

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Claudia_flies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claudia_flies/gifts).



> This is a birthday present for my dear Claudia_flies. Happy birthday! Like Pepper, you are a total badass with limited tolerance for fools and the patience of a saint <3
> 
> Also fulfils my "Kissing" kink bingo square.

It’s been three days since they kissed. Not that she’s counting. She’s had more important things on her mind, what with Vanko and the drones and the explosions and the ruined expo and all the paperwork that had created. And Tony apparently being almost dead and then not. Plus, she’d resigned as CEO and then unresigned five minutes later. What’s a kiss compared to all that?

Sure, a kiss she’d been waiting for _forever_ , but still just a kiss.

She and Tony have barely had a moment alone since it happened; when he’d got back from his meeting with Fury, he’d brushed wordlessly past her on his way to the lab and hasn’t emerged yet. Pepper knows him well enough to know what that means without being told. She’d already guessed the answer anyway; it’s not like there hadn’t been enough hints from Natalie – _Natasha_ – about what it was going to be. It’s so rare that Tony doesn’t get what he wants that normally she’d say this was good for him, but she knows what it had meant to him to be given a purpose, how much he needs it, how underneath all of his projected arrogance is a profound fear of rejection.

She has a list as long as her arm of things she wishes he’d talk to her about, but she knows Tony, and Tony needs time. Now he’s not dying, at least, they have that. And in the meantime, she wants another kiss.

Unlike Tony, Pepper’s had a lot of experience of not getting the things she wants, but she’s at least learnt the value of going out to try to get stuff instead of waiting for it to be given to her. Arming herself with two of Tony’s favourite bagels, she descends to the lab.

“Good afternoon, Miss Potts,” Jarvis says politely, serving the dual function of courtesy and alerting Tony to her presence.

“Good afternoon, Jarvis,” she replies. Tony is at a workbench in the corner, his hair sticking up at odd angles and a pyramid of empty coffee cups piled dangerously at his elbow. He doesn’t turn. After a moment, when it’s clear he isn’t going to acknowledge her, she walks over to him, coming to a stop a few paces away.

“Tony?”

He’s not doing anything, just staring into space, not focusing on any of the half-dozen screens open in front of him. She takes another step and puts the bagels down, on the opposite side to the coffee cups. When he still doesn’t move, she says “Tony?” again.

“Yep.”

“Bagels, Tony.”

He reaches vaguely out for the plate, not looking or picking one up. “Thanks.”

This is the most monosyllabic she’s ever seen him; usually, he’s overflowing with words, a whole barrage of chatter designed to deflect and disarm that she’s used to sieving through to find out what’s actually going on. It’s unnerving for him to be this quiet, and she’s suddenly angry at him for it. Doesn’t he at least owe her more of a response, after everything they’ve been through? After the kiss?

Tentatively, she sets her hand on his shoulder and he jumps, like it’s painful, shrugging her off. She snatches her hand way, stung. When he turns, she sees there are shadows under his eyes. She’s never seen him so despondent in her life, certainly not without him being hungover as well. He seems diminished, somehow; defeated.

“Is this about Fury?” she says, knowing full well that it is – what else _could_ it be? – but maintaining the illusion in case it preserves his pride.

Typically, Tony’s answer skips a couple of steps in the conversation. “They said ‘Iron Man yes, Tony Stark no.’ They want my weapons, but not me. Where have I heard that before?”

“This isn’t the same,” she says, and when he rolls his eyes, she insists, “It isn’t!”

“Well, at least he isn’t trying to get me killed, unlike Obie did.”

“You did enough of that on your own,” she reminds him. “You have to admit you haven’t exactly been acting like a model teammate.” _Which is putting it mildly._

He shrugs, a familiar gesture. “They don’t want me, Pep. Even after everything I did, I’m still not good enough. Nobody ever thinks I’m good enough.”

This self-pity is starting to piss her off. “So? When have you ever let what someone else thinks stop you? When have you ever let _anything_ stop you? You want this, then prove him wrong. Show him you can work as part of a team.”

“How?! How do I do that?”

“You’re the genius, Tony. You figure it out. Maybe practise by letting other people know what’s going on once in a while. Maybe people like me, so I don’t have to find out from other people if you’re dying.”

He does finally look guilty then, wincing, but she gets in before he can open his mouth and start the apologies and self-recriminations, holding up a finger. By some miracle, he stays silent.

“It sucks you didn’t get to join Fury’s team. I know you’ve got some stuff to worth through. But I know you, you can do anything you put your mind to and be great at it, and you will. For now, we kissed three days ago, and I want to do it again.”

Tony blinks a few times, his brow furrowed, then opens his mouth, closes it again, blinks, nods, and flails. His elbow catches the pyramid of coffee cups, which smashes to the floor, and they both look at the fragments of broken china for a moment.

“That seemed like a much suaver move in my head.”

“Shut up, Tony.”

“Strikes me now as more of a metaphor for how I….”

“Shut _up,_ Tony.”

She pushes past him, stepping carefully over the debris, and hops up on the bench, and he comes to stand in front of her. She draws him close to her, circling his waist with her legs, hemming him in. He looks at her for a moment, his gaze flickering between her eyes and her lips, and there’s an uncertainty in his face that’s so endearing she has to kiss him.

It’s slow, gentle, so unlike their first kiss. There’s more hesitancy there, and she can’t bear it, chasing it away and taking his face in her hands. As they kiss he opens up to her, and it feels good, _really_ good, like they’re finally communicating. She can feel him relaxing, like a tightly wound spring slowly uncoiling, all of the chaos of the past few weeks ebbing out of him, and suddenly they’re clinging together and she realises in a rush just how many times she’s come close to losing him recently. She holds onto him a little tighter.

He seems to be thinking the same thing, breaking off and resting his forehead against hers.

“I didn’t want to lose you too.”

“You haven’t lost anything yet,” she reminds him. “And you certainly won’t lose me.”

“I’m glad you said that,” Tony says, suddenly businesslike, and she recognises the tone that tells her she’s about to hear a lot of information very quickly that will require some damage control, “because I’ve got a medal ceremony tomorrow. Very important. I’m a national treasure, apparently. Wanna be my date? I kinda told Fury we were in a relationship, so it would be good if you were there. We’ll need the jet.”

There’s a sound like a record scratch in her brain, and she pulls away from him, shifting back on the workbench. “You did _what?!_ ”

“Told him we’re in a relationship.” He looks half-ashamed, half-defiant. “A stable one. That’s ok, right? You want to?”

This is just so _Tony_ that she’s almost pleased to feel the usual mingled fondness and exasperation that’s like a sixth sense by now, like things are a little bit closer to normal. She pokes him in the chest, her fingernail clicking against the arc reactor.

“There is _nothing_ stable about you.”

“Yeah there is. You. You’re the stable thing about me. I can be stable. For you.”

She sighs. “I’m not here to be your stability, Tony, I’ve got a company to run. You have to do that for yourself.”

“I can. I will. For you.”

“Really?”

He grins. “Well, I’ll try. 

“Try _really_ hard.” That’ll do, for now. “But I don’t have time to be your conscience, Tony.”

“Not now you don’t. You need to get on your official Tony Stark’s girlfriend plane to go to the Tony Stark’s girlfriend medal ceremony and then to the Tony Stark’s girlfriend hotel.”

“No I don’t. I’m getting on the Stark Industries CEO plane, we’re going to the Stark Industries CEO medal ceremony, and then – “ she softens, and feels herself flush at the thought, “ – _then_ I’m going to the Tony Stark’s girlfriend hotel. 

The smile that spreads over Tony’s face seems to reflect a similar blend of shyness and excitement; it’s not like Tony Stark to blush, but there’s a tiny tinge of red across the bridge of his nose that’s adorable. “OK, Miss Potts. Fair compromise.”

“You’d better pack your bags, Mr Stark,” she says, “Not just yet though. I want another kiss first.”

  
  


 


End file.
